


fuck authority

by rainbowsandgucci



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, And Of Course - Freeform, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Dirty Talk, Hair Dyeing, I Want That Twink Obliterated, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pet Names, Punk Richie Tozier, Rebellion, Smut, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Top Richie Tozier, bc richies a trashmouth who loves his baby, it's also barely mentioned but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21913495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowsandgucci/pseuds/rainbowsandgucci
Summary: Eddie shakes his head, frustrated. “No it's—she’s gettingworseRichie, I feel like she’s trying to suffocate me and she’s not evenhere!”Richie sighs. “Babe—”Eddie shifts, so he’s facing Richie. “I want you to dye my hair.”Richie blinks. “Youwhat?”Eddie folds his arms, then unfolds them, then stands and begins pacing, and gives Richie a determined look. “You heard me. I want you to dye my hair.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 17
Kudos: 487





	fuck authority

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i get an idea and it sticks, so here we are once again. enjoy!

Richie flings open the door to he and Eddie’s apartment with his usual amount of force, aka just enough that it bounces off the wall and halfway closes on its own, so Richie can kick backwards and shut it the rest of the way with a loud _bang_. It’s a routine that he’s perfected over the last year that they’ve lived there, and one that Eddie hates with a _passion_.

He’s expecting to hear Eddie yelling at him from their bedroom or the kitchen, since he’ll have been home for a couple hours now, while Richie was suffering through his long and boring classes. 

Instead, there’s muffled angry sounds coming from the living room. For a moment, Richie’s worried that one of the losers is over and they’re arguing or something, but then he rounds the corner, and sees his boyfriend pacing angrily by the couch, the telephone cord being twirled anxiously in his hand.

He only ever looks like _that_ when he’s talking to one person, and Richie cringes briefly to himself as he sets his backpack on the floor, then leans against the hallway to listen to Eddie’s half of the conversation.

“—don’t see why you can’t just be happy for me! I’m graduating in three months, I’ve already got a couple of potential job offers, and things are just—I’m doing _well_ mom!”

He goes quiet, as Sonia presumably yells, and finally turns and sees Richie. His expression morphs briefly into relief, and Richie mouths “_you okay?_”

Eddie shrugs, rolls his eyes, then brings his free hand up to rub at his eye as he sucks in a breath. 

“Yes ma I know you don’t understand, but me and Richie are—” He stops, Sonia on the other end yelling again, and sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “_Yes_ I’m still living with Richie, because he’s my _boyfriend_. Yes he’s still my boyfriend I—_no_ he hasn’t—ma you’re not _listening_ I—” Eddie groans, and Richie’s heart _clenches_.

Sonia’s never been the best mother, Richie remembers her forcing Eddie to stay indoors on beautiful spring days just so he wouldn’t ‘catch cold’, or ban him from going out in high school just to keep him away from the horrors of peer pressure. He has _vivid_ memories of crawling in Eddie’s window late at night to find Eddie crying, because of something horrible that she’d said or done, on more than one occasion. 

Richie _hates_ Sonia Kaspbbrak with a passion, hates how she’s treated _his_ Eddie for years, but especially hates how she’s acted since he came out. Eddie’s aware of his feelings, _knows_ that Richie is in full support of him cutting ties with her completely, but he can’t do it. As miserable as Richie _knows_ she makes him, he still can’t cut her out of his life, and as much as Richie hates it, hates _her_, he understands. 

Understanding doesn’t make it any easier to watch Eddie get increasingly frustrated though, and by the time Eddie’s finally hanging up the phone with a loud click and flopping onto the couch, Richie’s got half a mind to call Sonia back and tell her just where she can shove her own phone. 

Instead, he finally pushes away from the wall and rounds the couch to sit next to Eddie. He’s got his head in his hands, and when Richie wraps his arm around his waist, he leans into the touch and drops his arms to wrap around his middle, then finally looks at Richie. He looks _miserable_, though he’s not crying, which Richie takes as a win.

Richie gives him a gentle smile. “Hi baby.” He presses a kiss to his forehead, and Eddie hums as he leans into the contact.

“Hi.”

Richie begins rubbing his back soothingly, as Eddie leans even closer into his space. “So...she still thinks you’re moving home after graduation then?”

Eddie groans, and nods. “_Yes_, it doesn’t matter how many fucking times I tell her I’m not, she still keeps talking about ‘when I come back’ and it’s _exhausting_.” Richie sighs, and opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Eddie sits up, his facial features now twisted up like they get when he’s angry. “I just don’t know what the fuck to do anymore Richie! I live all the way in fucking Los Angeles and she’s _still_ trying to control me! I’m almost twenty three, I’ll be _graduating_ soon, I have a fucking _lease_ with my boyfriend and she still treats me like I’m twelve!”

Richie squeezes his arm comfortingly. “I’m sorry baby. You know she loves you, she just has a really shitty way of showing it.”

Eddie shakes his head, frustrated. “No it's—she’s getting _worse_ Richie, I feel like she’s trying to suffocate me and she’s not even _here_!”

Richie sighs. “Babe—”

Eddie shifts, so he’s facing Richie. “I want you to dye my hair.”

Richie blinks. “You _what_?”

Eddie folds his arms, then unfolds them, then stands and begins pacing, and gives Richie a determined look. “You heard me. I want you to dye my hair.”

Richie shakes his head, and laughs in disbelief. “Baby I don’t—I mean I’ll do it, of course, but Eds where is this coming from?”

Eddie’s cheeks begin to redden now, and he starts fidgeting. “I just—I’ve never _done_ anything like, crazy I guess? You got your tattoos and piercings and shit but I haven’t done _any_ of that and if I dye my hair that’s not permanent in case I don’t like it, and my mom would _hate _it so…” He shrugs, giving Richie a helpless look, and Richie _melts_.

He stands then, his hands resting on Eddie’s waist so he can pull him close. Then, he presses a kiss to Eddie’s nose. “Baby, if you want to dye your hair then I’ll _definitely_ help you. Whatever you want.”

Eddie smiles, for the first time since Richie walked in the door, and stands up on his tip-toes to press a chaste kiss to Richie’s lips. “You’re the best Richie.”

Richie smiles back, and presses a kiss to his lips, then his cheek, then pulls him into a hug. “Of course I am, that’s why you’re dating me.”

Eddie giggles, his face pressed into Richie’s chest, and the world feels okay again.

-

Luckily, the next day is Saturday, so they go out after breakfast to buy hair dyeing supplies. 

Eddie had decided on purple, because Richie never shuts up about how _good_ he looks in that color, and Richie’s jittery with excitement. He thinks Eddie’s excited too, behind his nerves, which is why he’s still going through with it.

Now, they’re sitting in their bathroom, a box of bleach and a box of purple dye sitting on the counter. Eddie’s staring at them like they’re going to tell him something, and Richie loves him so much he has to laugh. 

Eddie’s gaze swings around to fix him with a glare, and Richie just laughs harder. “Baby, the boxes aren’t gonna hurt you y’know.”

Eddie scowls, and grabs the box of bleach, thrusting it towards Richie. “Shut _up_, I’m just _nervous_.” He pouts then, and crosses his arms. If he asked Richie for the moon right now Richie would give it to him. “Just because you have a billion tattoos and holes in your face does _not_ mean that everyone can be fucking chill and cool while making these kinds of decisions, asshole.”

Scoffing, Richie begins opening the box, giving Eddie an incredulous look as he does. “Eds you were literally _there_ when I got my first tattoo, there’s no way you think I was _chill_ while that happened.”

Eddie pauses a moment, still pouting, then finally huffs out a laugh. “You cried like a _baby_ over a tattoo of fucking _Stripe_ from Gremlins.”

Richie nods solemnly. “I _did_. If you hadn’t been there I probably would’ve backed out, then I’d have a half finished Stripe on my calf and it’d look stupid as fuck.”

Eddie giggles, his arms dropping to his sides again as he shakes his head, and he looks _far_ more relaxed, so, mission accomplished. Richie finishes setting up, squeezes bottle A into bottle B and shakes them, then pulls on the latex gloves before turning to Eddie, who’s chewing on his lip anxiously.

“Well? You ready babe?”

Eddie sucks in a breath, then nods, tearing his eyes away from the bottle in Richie’s hand to meet his eyes. “Yes, but do it now before I change my mind.”

Richie laughs, moves so Eddie can stand in front of him facing the mirror, then gets to work.

The thirty minutes they have to wait before washing the bleach out is filled with Richie talking and Eddie anxiously switching between pacing, and sitting and bouncing his leg. Richie debates blowing him for a hot minute just to distract him, but then decides Eddie wouldn’t appreciate them accidentally leaving the bleach in longer than it should be. 

Finally, it’s time to wash it out, and Eddie bends over the sink while Richie washes it out, purposely massaging Eddie’s scalp more than is really necessary. Then, he towels it off, and lets Eddie blow dry it until it’s fluffy and _adorable_.

As Eddie combs it out, Richie finds himself biting at his thumbnail, unable to look away. After a few minutes, Eddie catches him looking in the mirror, and gives him a confused look.

“What’s your problem? It doesn’t look bad does it?”

Richie shakes his head immediately, standing from where he’d been sitting on the closed toilet seat, and comes up behind Eddie. “It looks _amazing_ Eds,” he slides his hands underneath Eddie’s shirt, rests his hands on Eddie’s sides and grins when he feels Eddie shiver at the touch. “Y’know, if you want to just stay blond, I definitely wouldn’t complain.” He waggles his eyebrows. “You know what they say about blonds babe.”

Eddie sucks in a breath as he stares at their reflection, as Richie presses a kiss to his neck, then nips softly. “Richie you—” He moans softly, eyes fluttering shut as Richie continues kissing down his neck, one of his hands sliding under the waistband of his sweatpants and the other grabbing possessively at his hip.

After a couple minutes of kissing and Richie’s hands _teasing_, Eddie starts rocking his hips, his head resting back against Richie’s shoulder, about to ask for _more_, _something, anything_, when Richie pulls his hands away abruptly. Eddie’s eyes fly open, a pout already forming on his lips.

“What the _fuck_, Richie?”

Richie grins, his hands wrapping around his waist, this time _over_ his shirt, as he rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “We have a _thing_ to finish baby, don’t you wanna get a move on?”

Eddie groans, and stomps his foot lightly down onto Richie’s, who doesn’t even bother acting like it hurts. “Why do you have to be such a fucking _tease_?”

Richie hums, and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Oh baby, it's not teasing if I fully intend to fuck you until you’re crying later.”

He pulls away then, as Eddie whimpers, feeling much more smug than he’ll ever admit to, and grabs the box of dye. 

As Eddie leans forward, gripping the edge of the sink as he calms himself down, Richie gets everything mixed, gets a new pair of gloves on, then meets Eddie’s eyes in the mirror. 

“You sure honey?”

Eddie takes a deep breath, then nods, determined. “Positive.”

Richie smiles, and kisses the back of his head before he starts applying the dye. They’re quiet during the process; Richie concentrating on making the color as even as possible, and Eddie too nervous to do anything but watch.

The instructions say to leave the dye in for about forty minutes, so while they wait, Richie makes them lunch, and Eddie attempts to work on an essay for one of his classes, but mostly spends the entire time chewing on his pencil.

Finally though, they’re back in the bathroom, Richie watching the purple swirl down the drain, and Eddie anxiously tapping against the edge of the sink the entire time. Richie should _not_ be as endeared by that as he is, but, well, to him, where Eddie is concerned logic has never really applied.

As soon as Richie’s done toweling off Eddie’s hair so it’s no longer dripping, he steps back, expecting Eddie to want to blow dry it again. Instead, Eddie turns around so he’s facing away from the mirror, and hands the dryer to Richie.

“You do it and tell me if it looks awful, I’m too scared.”

Richie huffs out a laugh. “Baby, it’s still wet but it already looks amazing, I promise it won’t look awful.”

Eddie gives him a doubtful look, and shakes the dryer. “I don’t care, you’re doing it.”

Richie laughs again, but grabs the dryer and the brush, and gets to work. As if he’d have it in him to ever say _no_ to Eddie.

As the hair dries, Richie finds himself grinning, wider and wider, because it looks _good_. Like, _really _fucking good.

“Hey you know what? This actually looks really good, I could be a hairdresser.”

Eddie snorts, thought it’s a little breathy with nerves. “I don’t think your ego needs it.”

Richie lets out a mock-offended gasp, and brings the dryer to rest over his heart. “Eds! You wound me!”

Eddie laughs, but pushes lightly at Richie’s shoulder, then shakes his hands in something of a ‘jazz hands’ movement as he whines, “_Rich_ come on, I’m dying here.”

Richie laughs too, but finishes up, even going so far as to style Eddie’s hair like he does on nights they’re going out, then, finally sets the dryer and brush down and looks at Eddie. “You wanna see?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No. Nope. I’m not ready.”

Richie snorts, but grabs Eddie’s shoulders, and spins him around so he’s facing the mirror anyway.

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s going to start cussing Richie out, then, catches sight of himself, and freezes.

He’s silent for a moment, then, lets out a breathy, “_oh._” Then, he continues to stare, open mouthed, at the shiny purple his hair now is.

After a moment, Richie taps his hand. “You can touch it if you want to, y’know.”

Immediately, Eddie brings his hands up and begins playing with his hair, moving his head side to side as he does. There’s a grin on his face that slowly grows as he does, and finally, his eyes move up to meet Richie’s in the mirror. “_Richie_.”

He looks so fucking _cute_, Richie giggles. “Yeah baby?”

Eddie’s grin widens, and he turns around to pull Richie into a hug. “I fucking _love _it Rich, thank you so much.”

Richie hugs him back, but shakes his head when they pull apart again. “Hey no babe this is all you, you’re so fucking brave.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, the little shit. “I’m not brave for dyeing my hair Richie, it’s not even permanent or anything.”

“So? You were scared, but you did it anyway, I think that’s pretty fucking brave.” When Eddie rolls his eyes again, though his cheeks are starting to turn red like they always do when Richie compliments him, and Richie pinches his side lightly. “Besides, I think you’re brave for a lot more reasons than just this.”

Eddie smiles up at him, soft and full of _love_, like Richie fucking hung the stars or whatever sappy shit people like to say, and Richie _has_ to bring him in for a kiss.

It starts off gentle, and so sickly sweet it could almost make Richie’s teeth hurt. Then, Eddie nips at Richie’s bottom lip, like he thinks he’ll _get away with it_, and Richie can’t have that; so he nips back, deepens the kiss so Eddie’s almost leaning backwards, and pushes Eddie backwards until he’s up against the counter. 

Eddie goes easily, his body pliant and willing like always whenever Richie’s hands are on him, and he lets out a gasp, then a whine when Richie gets him pressed against the counter. Richie’s hands slide down, grabbing tightly at his ass, and Eddie _moans_, loud enough that Richie laughs.

“What’s that baby? You getting all worked up? Just from a little groping?”

Eddie whines, rolls his hips into Richie’s, and _pouts_. “_Richie_ please, you _said_—”

Richie hums, as he pulls teasingly at Eddie’s sweatpants, until they’re resting so low on his hips that it’s scandalous. “What did I say baby? Remind me.”

Eddie groans, and wiggles his hips slightly, frustratedly. “You _said _you were gonna fuck me until I’m _crying_.” He glares at Richie then, and tugs at his shirt. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, since you’re so distracted by my ass, but I’m not being fucked, and I’m not fucking crying.”

With a huff, Richie pinches at Eddie’s side. “Damn honey, I think we should’ve dyed your hair red, to match your attitude.” Eddie scoffs, and Richie brings his hand up to grip his cheeks, so he’s forced to look up at him. “Watch it baby, or your ass is gonna be what’s red.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, his shoulders slumping slightly, as he breathes out a soft, “Rich…” 

Richie grins, his hand falling back to Eddie’s waist. “_There’s _my good boy, knew he was in there somewhere.”

Eddie’s still pouting, but lets out a soft whine. “But I’m _always_ good for you Richie.”

Richie laughs, and shakes his head. “You’re a fucking _brat_ baby, don’t lie.” He reaches up, then grabs ahold of Eddie’s hair and _pulls_, so his head is back and Richie can kiss him, quick and filthy. When he pulls away, he grins at Eddie’s red, irritated lips, his glossy eyes, and his delicate fingers clutching at Richie’s arms. “That’s okay though, because you’re so fucking pretty, aren’t you baby?”

“Fuck, _Richie_,” Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, and his cheeks begin to redden as he whines, “you can’t just—”

“Can’t what sweetheart?” Richie’s right hand grabs Eddie’s waist again, and he squeezes tight as he moves closer to Eddie, so he’s almost arching backwards. “I can’t tell my baby that he’s pretty? Can’t say you’re fucking _gorgeous_? The prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen?”

Eddie sucks in a shaky breath, and Richie _smiles_, almost wicked, and leans in so he can pepper kisses along Eddie’s neck. “Yeah you love that don’t you Eds, love that you’re so fucking pretty I have to mark you up, make sure everyone knows you’re _mine_, don’t you? You like being mine honey?”

Eddie shivers, tilts his head to the side and moans. “Lo—_ah_, love it so much Richie,” Richie nips, and Eddie’s fingernails dig into Richie’s skin in response. “Love how you leave marks—bruise me up so everyone _knows_ they can’t touch. I—_oh_ Richie, please I’m—“

Richie lets out a growl, and in a quick movement that leaves Eddie _trembling_, removes his sweatpants, then wraps his big hands around Eddie’s thighs and lifts him up onto the counter. Automatically, Eddie’s legs wrap around Richie’s waist, pulling him as close as he can possibly get as Eddie pulls him in for a kiss.

As they kiss, hot and messy and absolutely _filthy_ in a way that will make Eddie blush later, Richie fumbles through the top drawer and finds the lube. He’d placed it there days after they’d moved in, because they’re both insatiable and he _knows_ it, and he’s never been more grateful for his past self’s genius thinking as he is right now, as he slides the the first finger inside Eddie’s body.

Eddie sighs into the kiss, like it’s a relief to have Richie inside him again—even though the last time had been _barely_ twelve hours ago—and pulls away from Richie’s lips just long enough to breathe out a soft, “more _please_ Rich, I’m still open from this morning.”

Richie huffs out a laugh, and debates teasing Eddie for just a moment, before realizing there’s time for that _later_, and he slides a second finger in. He kisses Eddie again, his free hand settling on the back of Eddie’s neck so he can’t pull away and demand _more more more_. 

It doesn't take long to get Eddie opened up enough, and as soon as Richie slides inside him, Eddie lets out a _whorish_ moan.

“_God_ Richie you fuck me so good, your cock’s so f-fucking _big_; it fills me up so g-good.”

Richie laughs, though it’s breathy, and adjusts his grip on Eddie’s thighs. “Fuck yeah I do honey, gotta keep my little cockwhore happy don’t I?”

Eddie moans and nods in agreement, his cheeks flushed and his eyelids drooping. Richie’s hardly even _done _anything and he looks fucked out, and the sight has Richie groaning and finally, he begins _thrusting_. Every gasp, moan, or whine that Eddie lets out is music to his ears, has Richie groaning himself and eventually reaching up to grab Eddie’s _fucking gorgeous_ purple hair. 

It’s soft to the touch, so he _yanks_, hard enough that Eddie’s head is thrown back with it, and grins at the absolutely _wrecked_ sound Eddie lets out. Richie begins kissing at Eddie’s neck, the exposed skin that’s already littered with marks at various stages of healing calling out to him, then begins sucking and biting, leaving new marks on _his_ boy.

Eddie calls him a possessive bastard sometimes, but the words are always accompanied by wide eyes and a dreamy tone, so Richie isn’t hurt by the words.

When Eddie’s hands slide around to Richie’s shoulders and being digging in, the sting assuring Richie that there’ll _definitely_ be marks on his back tomorrow, he knows he’s getting close. Sure enough, a moment and a _hard_ thrust later, Eddie cries out, “Richie I—I’m gonna—can I come? Please Richie _please_ I can’t—” 

He breaks off with an _oh_, as Richie moves a hand from Eddie’s thigh to his dick, and begins moving at the angle he _knows_ Eddie likes. “Ssh baby, you can come for me. Gonna look so fucking pretty won’t you honey? Gonna make a fucking _mess_ all over yourself, be a good fucking boy for me won’t you?”

Eddie whimpers and nods, looking _overwhelmed _as he rocks his hips in time with Richie’s thrusts, until his movements get erratic and he grabs tightly at Richie’s shoulders and comes. He comes messy all over Richie’s hand, his own stomach, and the shirt that Richie hadn’t bothered to take off, with loud whimpers that have Richie coming too only moments later.

Richie continues to thrust shallowly, even as they’re both coming down, because he knows Eddie likes that. Likes the overstimulation, the _full_ feeling that comes from having even Richie’s soft cock inside him. 

Eventually, though, Richie’s sticky and starting to cramp, and Eddie’s halfway to falling asleep resting against him and still sitting on the counter. So he pulls out, fixes his clothing, wipes the both of them down (sometimes bathroom sex is _incredibly_ convenient) then presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, smiling fondly when Eddie mumbles something he can’t even pretend to understand.

“You awake enough for a shower honey? Or do you want a nap?” Eddie sighs, and shakes his head where it’s tucked into Richie’s chest, and Richie laughs. “Alright, bed it is. Hold on baby.”

Eddie obeys—really, he rarely doesn’t—and clings onto Richie as he carries him to the bedroom. 

Eddie’s nearly asleep by the time Richie gets him on the bed, but he still takes a few minutes to go to the kitchen and get them both some water, for when Eddie will inevitably wake up in a couple hours _dying_ of thirst. He’s learned _that_ lesson the hard way.

Finally, he’s also crawling into bed, half asleep himself. As soon as he gets in next to Eddie, his arms wrapped firmly around him, Eddie moves so he’s pressed up against him in his sleep. It makes Richie’s heart swell, and he presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, catching some of his purple hair with it, then finally allows himself to drift off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi!](https://queereightiesheartthrob.tumblr.com/)


End file.
